


Caught on Tape

by je_suis_le_petit_lapin



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Exhibitionism, Other, Porn, Sex Tapes, a strange sort of voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6096408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/je_suis_le_petit_lapin/pseuds/je_suis_le_petit_lapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he overhears his teammates complaining about the lack of sex, lack of porn, lack of anything except their own hands, Spy decides to take matters into his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught on Tape

**Author's Note:**

> hey look i wrote a thing after god knows how long aren't you proud of me

At first, it was just supposed to be a way to make some extra money, provide the team a service that they desperately needed judging by their shower talk and the noises he heard, slipping through their walls and under the cracks in their doors.

Scout was actually the one to have brought it up first, a long sigh and a complaint about not getting enough pussy that Spy would’ve probably would have dismissed as his usual braggadocio had Engie not clapped him on the shoulder and sighed “you got that right, son”. Soon, they were all -- save Spy, he never engaged in their locker room talk -- airing their disappointments over how breaks had gotten lesser and shorter, hardly enough time to go out and get laid, and their one skin flick had gotten stale after 6 months of repeated viewings. Spy had pricked his ear up, stopped drying himself just long enough for a plan to start rolling through his head. He may not have been able to help them directly, but he’d probably be able make a quick buck with little work, especially if they were as desperate as they’d seemed.

Besides, his own life had gotten rather rote as well; he figured he could add a little thrill at the same time.

Spy was sitting on his bed, flipping the latest woman he’d “snuck in” in his hand as he gently undid his tie. It slipped to the floor, and Spy regarded it momentarily before returning his gaze to the paper mask in his hand. Scrawled across the front was a crude sketch of the face of a woman, thick black hair and full red lips crudely imitated in pencil, cigarette burn in place of a beauty mark.

He'd pick his tie up later. A calculated carelessness kind of helped the whole atmosphere.

The boys never questioned how he brought these people in, although he knew they were itching to find out; let them wonder, dream up ideas of him slipping them in with the other contraband, a pretty young woman (or sometimes a man, it was his job to know _everything_ about his teammates, including which ones would pay handsomely for certain kinds of recordings) tied up with the good alcohol and Indonesian cigarettes that he’d ferry into the base in unmarked boxes and stash in the back of his closet.

Hastily, his suit pants and underwear were pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of them and pushed his socks down off his feet, setting the mask down by his side to free his hand for his shirt buttons. A quick sweep down his chest and they were all undone, exposing the thick covering of hair on his torso. Hair that, from his point of view, would be gone in a couple seconds.

Stepping up and surveying himself in the full-length mirror affixed to his door, Spy nodded once in approval and slipped the mask on.

He blinked and in the next moment he had changed, paper-covered face now that of the woman depicted on it, chest filling out and paunch pulling in. His legs, already pretty shapely, were now longer, and led up to a more full behind, if he thought so himself. Not that his own was lacking, but there was something different about someone else’s.

Especially someone else’s, moving exactly as his own body. As he moved his body over to the the tripod, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at himself, how his hips now moved with more swagger, only partially from the disguise. Making sure that the tape was in, rewound, and ready to go (he’d learned his lesson burning through more than a couple recordings with technical issues), Spy tapped the button and rushed back into frame in the three-count afforded to him.

Sitting back on his bed, he marvelled at how his double in the mirror mimicked his actions perfectly. As much as he was using the technology, he never quite got the chance to admire it like he did during these sessions.

Keeping his eyes locked with his reflection, he shot his arm out and snapped up his bottle of lubricant, flicking the top off and drizzling some onto three outstretched fingers. The woman in the mirror pulled the same fingers upwards along her clit, in time with Spy slicking the underside of his cock.

He smirked, and she smirked right back, like she knew what was racing through his mind. In a way, she did.

Starting a steady rhythm with his hand, Spy bit down on his lip and exhaled. Averting his gaze for a second immediately brought to mind the spectacle he was performing, and they shot back to the mirror; even though he’d done this a countless number of times he still worried in the back of his mind about how smoothly each one would go off, if this would be the time that he would falter and give up the whole game.

But the mirror showed a perfect image, his fantasy lover rubbing her hand in circles over herself. He forced himself to relax and lay back over his sheets, sinking into his cheap regulation mattress. His spread-leg position was more uncomfortable than he would have liked, but comfort was came second to making sure that he was putting on a good show.

He tipped his head up just enough to make sure it looked natural when he moved his hand, spreading his pussy open with his fingers and rolling his hips at the sight. His hand came up to cup at an illusive breast, so practiced that it was hard for even him to believe that he wasn’t watching a woman touch herself, a private act of voyeurism even if he was the only one in the room.

“You like that? Like watching me play with myself?” He whispered in a surprisingly coquettish voice, licking his lips and winking at the mirror to further the effect.

The lube was spread out thoroughly over his cock now, and every pass of his thumb over the ridge of the head was pushing him closer, so he pulled his hand away and heaved his shoulders dramatically.

“I’m so close, but I don’t wanna cum just yet…” Spy affected his voice more than strictly necessary, since his disguise did most of the trickery for him. Still, he got a little excited from the game, trying on different personalities, perfecting his imitations. “Oh, I want something big inside me…”

Standing up just meant another chance to show off, leaning one arm on the bed and arching his back to present himself for the camera. Normally he got complaints from his lovers about being “too hairy” below his waist, everywhere below his waist -- though he’d scoffed at the very idea --  but this woman was almost perfectly bare, a single manicured strip above her cunt all the remnants of her pubic hair he could see. For a moment, he’d thought he ought to spend a few minutes in this position, spreading himself and gasping, but then his other hand found what he was rooting for in the box underneath his bed and, with a few more seconds to tease the camera, he straightened back up.

He turned on his heel and flopped uncharacteristically back down onto the bed, regarding the thick black silicone in his hand with a grin that almost gave away too much.

“But I don’t want this in my pussy, oh no.” -- it was definitely true, for that illusion Spy would have to cut open his taint and wrench the wound apart with his toy (although maybe those screams would interesting to revisit later, from the hospital bed he would inevitably land himself in) -- and he brought his fingers up to his mouth yet again to wet them more thoroughly. Stringing spit out of his mouth, he let those fingers drop back down to his crotch, spreading his legs a bit further to reach his target.

He always lubricated himself before, whenever he was going to do anal he lubed and stretched himself up before the main event so as not to ruin the faux-porn illusion of the whole thing, as it was essentially a porn show to him. His slicked fingers slid into his lubed hole easily, and his shoulders tensed at the sensation that he never could quite get comfortable with. Giving himself a cursory stretch or two was enough, and he retracted his hand to grasp at the dildo he’d picked.

His other hand groped around for the lube he’d dropped, and when he’d found the bottle he popped it open and squeezed a liberal amount on the toy. Once he’d judged it satisfactory, he let the bottle fall to the bed and off the side. Spy didn’t care. He had bigger things to concern himself with.

Reassuming his spread-eagle position, Spy slid the head of the dildo back and forth between his balls and his hole, keeping an eye on the mirror to make sure that it looked like he was teasing the opening of his pussy. He winked lasciviously, and pushed the toy down a bit further, until it was teasing his own opening.

It sunk in almost immediately, and Spy jolted a little, less performative than his previous gestures. A “mon dieu” almost slipped out before he schooled himself into a more girlish “oh my god”, and he pushed the toy in slowly, gyrating over it as obscenely as he could while it slid in.

Once he had the base nestled in between his cheeks, he gasped (mostly fake) and bit down on his lip (real, especially once he gave the bottom of the dildo a good push.) He grabbed the bottom of the toy and yanked it out faster than he was expecting himself too.

“Oh!” Spy’s eyes widened, mouth opening and then tightening into an ring. “My ass is so filled right now, I just want your cock in my pussy…” The toy was instantly back in his hole and his hand was teasing the head of his cock, little gasps slipping out of his pursed lips. Forcing himself to wrench his legs apart further and splay himself upon his bed, Spy watched his fingers circling his clit in the mirror.

His other hand, just thrown to the side while he was busy fucking the dildo into himself, came back up to his mouth, resting on his lips while his tongue darted out to tap at them. Not quite enough to wet the tips, but hopefully enough that it would look like he did.

Technically he didn’t even have to be touching his balls to make it look like he was spreading his pussy lips open, but soon he was pressing his fingers harder against that spot, jerking himself upward as he neared his orgasm.

He had decided that this woman let delicious little whines out as she came undone, let her limbs fly out and face contort, but when he was on the edge it was difficult to keep up the charade that it was all for the viewer. Still, he did his best mimicry of movements unnatural to him as he shot his release out into his hand.

A big post-orgasm show of exhaustion hid him wiping his cum onto his bedsheets, then he was sliding the toy out of his ass and dropping it to the floor. Not much for sentimentality after the fact, Spy tapped the record button on the camera, and the tape clicked, red light beeping twice.

He stripped the mask off of his face and tossed it to the ground, rubbing his eyes while his appearance shifted back to the 40-something (50-something? he’d almost forgotten himself, switching his personalities around on a whim like this) man he was. The tape was out of the camera and back in its box with a number and some fake name scrawled on the label in a heartbeat, and Spy forewent the rest of the cleanup, at least for a bit.

Another job well done and he could do with some rest, he felt, laying back down next to the wet spot on his sheets.

 

* * *

 

“Come in.” Sniper barely stirred when Spy pushed his door open, waving his newest production in one hand. “Wallet’s on the dresser.”

Spy set the tape down to flip open Sniper’s wallet and pull a few wrinkled bills from the inside.

“That’s not what we agreed on, mate.”

Sighing, Spy tossed one of the twenty dollar bills back down on the tape box and looked back at Sniper, who was laying with his eyes closed.

“It’s… strange how you can do that.” Spy raised an eyebrow, and Sniper smirked.

“‘S not the first time you’ve tried it.” And he was right, Spy would’ve made off with an forty extra bucks the first time except the day after he’d dropped that little tape off Sniper came barging into his room, not even acknowledging the man until he’d located his wallet and yanked out the bills that Spy had helped himself to. Spy could only thank the stars that he wasn’t recording at that moment.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, and now if you’ll excuse me…” Spy grabbed the doorknob, starting to yank on it when he heard Sniper’s bedsprings squeak, the closest to a protest he could expect from the man who couldn’t even look him in the eye while they were doing a deal.

“Is there something you wanted? Another man, perhaps? You seemed rather fond of that one...” He turned around to preempt what he was sure was Sniper’s question, only to be surprised by his downcast head shaking slightly.

“No- well, yeah, actually,” Sniper caught himself, “but that’s not what I was going to ask.”

Spy was intrigued. “Well, then? Out with it.”

“Could I join in on the next one?”

It was a testament to Spy’s composure that his nostrils only flared a tiny bit at Sniper’s suggestion that he appear in one of Spy’s films. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ll pay you whatever!” Sniper sounded desperate, too desperate for what even he knew was probably a futile attempt.

“It’s not about the money!” Spy lied in a whisper, for the alternative was raising his voice to the level of causing a scene, and he would’ve preferred this fight to be over and forgotten as soon as it could be.

Sniper apparently did not share in this goal, because he crossed his arms and sneered, “So you’re just running an amateur porn business for fun? Going out, finding these people and convincing them to film themselves, probably gotta pay them too, and you’re just doing it because you enjoy it so much?”

“No-” yes, he was, it wasn’t even a side business anymore as much as it was a way for him to show off on camera, sell the results to his unsuspecting team because he got a cheap, dirty _thrill_ out of it, “I just…”

Turned out Sniper could come up with a plan faster than Spy could a lie, because his sneer turned into a smirk. “I’m pretty sure administration wouldn’t take too well to you sneaking civilians in here.”

Spy, for the first time in a while, felt caught, well and truly fucked, and for a moment he weighed the pros of telling Sniper about what he was really jerking off too all those nights versus letting him go to the administrator and having to explain it to her.

Or, he could…

“Three nights from now. 9 PM, in my room. There will be a young man waiting for you, with the camera on. Come in, do your thing, and leave immediately. And I expect two hundred dollars before then, otherwise the whole thing is off.”

He didn’t even need to stick around to watch Sniper mull it over, confident in what his decision would be. Still, he took one last look over his shoulder as he passed through the doorway. “Make it two-fifty.”

No point lowballing himself.

**Author's Note:**

> second chapter??? who knows


End file.
